


Stay.

by RubyFiamma



Series: Alter End. [4]
Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bruising, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking, Mild Angst, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delico is asked to make a decision that only leaves him torn between having to choose which painful option is the one that he's willing to live with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay.

**Stay.**

* * *

 

  
Delico wakes when he feels the mattress dip. It's dark in the room, but Delico assumes Yang seems to already know his way around when he hears a quiet click in the still silence and then the room is flooded in a soft amber glow.

"Morning," Yang says over his shoulder. "At least, I think it is. Delico... This place is  _terrible._ "

Delico's eyes follow the way Yang's skin stretches slow and taut across his shoulders when he moves, trail down curves of his body and catch the way the shadows ripple across the ribs of muscle in his back. They linger over his hips and the dip of his spine and the light illuminates his skin shimmering gold like a skyline at dusk.

"It w-works," he manages, breath sticking to his throat in a way that makes his voice come out in an octave barely above a whisper. Yang doesn't take notice, and if he does, he doesn't say anything. Instead he's turning, so Delico's forced to drink in the way the light plays off the curve of his waist, the way the shadows curl around his bare thighs.

"It doesn't even have a kitchen. Where do you eat? And this bed  _really_  sucks. You're hopeless, you know that? You see, you just let yourself go without me. Let's be realistic, Delico. You  _need_ me." Delico catches a flash of white as Yang's teeth cut across his grin. He's not even trying to hide the derision in his voice but it's a thing Delico's certainly used to by now, and it's a tone that lacks any truth to the action, no fire to the insults.

"Shut up," Delico scoffs, throwing an arm over his face as the mattress is sinks with Yang's added weight when he returns, and Delico can feel the chuckle of laughter that vibrates through the other's body. "I do just fine on my own." He's falling onto his back and the cot is barely big enough to hold one full grown man, let alone two, but Yang makes it work by throwing a leg over his hips.

"Is that so?" Yang asks. Delico can hear the amusement in his voice, and just as he's about to retort, there's warm breath spilling over his lips. "Are you sure about that?"

The answer is no, he's not sure about being on his own anymore. He's torn, the one half of him wants Yang to stay but the other half wants to stay  _away_ from Yang to protect him, and that feeling is too overwhelming, near consuming for him to make a clear decision.

There are lips suddenly meshing with his own and Delico startles, but he can feel the tranquility already seeping through, sinking into his blood, turning his fear and doubt into calm. If every moment could be like this, they could be happy and safe and Delico would never have to worry about betraying him again; he wouldn't ever have to worry about  _hurting_  Yang again, next time he might not get so lucky.

"Stop thinking," Yang murmurs, commanding but breathless as he licks at Delico's open mouth. He  _wants_  to stop over thinking, he wants to just concentrate on the now, the way Yang's tongue slides against his own, the way the heat burns bright in Delico's blood like nothing else in the world matters, like no darkness can reach them.

Delico hums against Yang's lips, the wake of the other's fingertips ghosting down his chest singe his skin and Delico's reaching up to fit his hands in the dips of Yang's waist to pull the other impossibly close. There's contact that elicits a gasp, thick and breathless like the air he exhales is made out of smoke; the shape of Yang's length presses hot against his own and Delico's grinding up slow without thinking, digging bruises into the other's skin and Yang's matching his rhythm without effort. Delico's pulse picks up in anticipation and all the air he wants to breathe out sticks to his lungs. There's no trace of the bitterly sweet tang on Yang's tongue, just the taste of Delico himself and something in that strikes a wildfire of euphoria through his veins.

He parts his lips and opens his mouth to gasp in the muggy stale air like he's taking his first breath, and he's tipping his head back in offering as Yang's mouth trails wet down the curve of his throat. He feels Yang settle on his pulse point, feels his teeth scrape against skin until Yang's sucking blue bruises to the surface.

"M-marks," Delico manages, tongue too heavy with Yang's taste to string together an efficient sentence. "Don't leave --"

"Too late," Yang purrs, and Delico can feel the other's grin slide against his neck. Yang's moving his mouth down his chest, his fingers trailing over the slots in Delico's ribs as he goes. Delico doesn't reply, instead brushes his fingers through Yang's hair, arcs off the bed to fit better against the wet slide of Yang's mouth.

"Come back with me," Yang exhales against his stomach, and Delico can't supply an answer, he was told to stop thinking and so he has, but even so, he wouldn't be able to wrap sensible thought around the graze of Yang's fingers down his cock or the brushing tease over his entrance. Any words he may have had on the tip of his tongue evaporate, rising into the air in the shape of a groan as Yang swallows his cock.

Delico arches off the bed, drives his hips up without thinking, seeking heated friction that kills the icy chill of future possibilities and Yang takes a breath, it falls hot over his cock, before the other pins his hip back into the mattress and Yang follows the motion without his mouth ever leaving Delico's length.

There are fingers sliding into him, the motion made nearly easy without lubricant, being stretched and sexed into satiation several times the night before. The pressure still burns but it's worth the fire that floods his veins and the drop in his stomach when Yang twists and crooks his fingers.

" _Fuck_ ," Delico chokes, reaching out to stretch his hand over Yang's head, drag his nails against the other's scalp.

His stomach draws taut when Yang's mouth glides down, his fingers move in and the combination breeds the sensation of electricity crackling up Delico's spine. Fingers stroke up against his insides, send stars sparkling across his vision as Delico's heels dig into the mattress, and the buck of his hips thrust his cock deeper into Yang's mouth. He feels the other's groan resonate bone-deep and Delico fits a hand over the back of Yang's head while the other grabs a fistful of rumpled sheets and " _More,_ " leaves his lips without a conscious thought behind it.

Yang laughs around his cock, breath spilling hot over Delico's skin and the vibration thrums up his shaft, turns Delico's limbs to jelly. He's teetering on the edge, but Yang's fingers slide out, leave him empty and throbbing for more and the cool air clings to his flushed flesh in place of the heat of Yang's mouth.

Delico feels the weight of Yang's knees dip into the bed, then he's sliding his hands up Delico's thighs, curling his fingers into muscle as he tightens his grip.

Delico opens his eyes long enough to catch the wet sheen glistening over Yang's lips and the eclipsed black that has swallowed his already dark eyes and for a minute Delico has clarity.

"You're so beautiful," Yang says, the stretch of Yang's grin brings him to an epiphany, that this is the face he wants to wake up to every day, that those eyes are what he wants to find reassurance in when things get too hard, and those lips are what he wants to kiss every night before he sleeps.

His face flushes hot and he's thankful to the jaundiced light of the room to hide the tell-tale heat that spreads across his cheeks. He's about to open his mouth, offer an insult to deflect the sentiment but instead, " _Yang_ ," is what he groans, curling his hand around the other's arm, and that moment of clarity crumbles underneath the strike of white hot as Yang enters him, the slow slide and heavy pressure burning fire against his insides.

The sound of his name drags hot across Yang's tongue as heat pools low in his stomach and pulls at the tip of his spine. The first roll of Yang's hips bring stars flittering across Delico's vision, he can feel Yang's hands close around his knees as the other pulls back and thrusts in once more, sinking slow and deep and Delico's breath gets stuck in his throat but as Yang's easing back, Delico's reaching forward, curling his fingers around the other's thighs, in the suggestion he remain close. Yang starts to say something, but the edges of Delico's consciousness are already starting to fray and he can't pay attention. There is Yang's palm pressed against his chest, fingers splayed out over his heart and Yang is adding pressure, pinning him to the bed as Delico hooks a leg over the other's shoulder. He rocks in slow motion, Delico can see the concentration pulling at Yang's features, the way his brows knit together and he quirks his mouth into a not-quite frown. His hands are moving to the insides of Delico's thighs now, spreading him open wider so he can thrust in deeper and Delico's forgotten how to breathe. There's nothing but raw sensation so heavy that it feels like it's breaking Delico from the inside out, folding in on himself like a contortionist. Delico tries to stay quiet but sound is pulled from his throat every time Yang hilts, so deep that Delico can taste bitter salt of him on the back of his tongue.

Yang is moving faster now, and Delico can't see the other's face anymore but he can collect the pieces of expression behind closed eyes just as well. He can see Yang's mouth open, soft and shaping around the sound of his name, Yang's pupils blown wide and swallowing colour and suddenly even that vision is bleeding out as his entire world starts to melt away around him.

Delico's fingers drag down Yang's sweat-slicked skin, Yang's licking heat inside his mouth, and Delico can't focus long enough on kissing, he's gasping out with each thrust. Yang's moving even faster, too quickly and erratic to keep the pace, and Delico's given up keeping his mouth locked with the other's, exchanges it for rolling Yang's name off his tongue in shallow breaths each time the other rocks harder against the spot that makes him see white.

"I love you," Yang's saying, "god -- so  _much_ ," and Delico can't seem to manage anything but short bursts of sound as he pushes back into every thrust in response. There are fingers finally curling around his cock, Yang's thumb is dragging up his shaft but soon he's stroking to meet his thrusts in concert, quick and erratic and Delico's arching off bed, throwing his arm across Yang's shoulders to dig crescent curves at the back of the other's neck.

"Yang --  _Yang_ ," Delico starts, he can feel sensation coil winding tighter and tighter in his stomach, binding under the pool of heat in his belly until it shatters like glass under the tension. Delico loses his hold on any sentience, suddenly he's left this plane and all others like it as he shudders into his blinding orgasm. He can't tell, can't really feel anything but the tingling numb curl of his toes. There's delirium washing over his senses, and an almost calm that comes with the wet heat pulsing inside him, the shallow exhalation of what sounds like his name ghosting over his throat.

As pieces of his vision start to meld back together, Delico falls back to the less than pleasant comfort of jutted springs, Yang lets his hold go, bracing himself against the mattress as he eases out. Delico winces with the movement only slightly, too wrapped up in haze with the warmth still lingering through his body.

Yang's still breathing hard, and Delico's pulse has only just begun to slow and despite feeling too warm and too lax, he has to sit up again. His head is reeling from the flood of worry and apprehension, yet when Yang presses a kiss to his shoulder and rests his chin in the crook of Delico's neck. The other's arms fit around his waist, and they're both quiet for a while until their breathing has steadied, until Delico no longer feels his heart hammering against his chest or the slick sludge of dread sloshing around in his stomach. Instead he feels safe, he feels  _right,_ here in this room with Yang pressed into his back. It doesn't matter what happens now, he thinks. With the last piece of the puzzle falling into place, Yang fits into his life is just as easy as he always has, and Delico knows this is the way it should be. Nothing is the same -- nothing is  _worth it --_  without Yang by his side.

So, "I'll stay," he says as he leans back into Yang's lap. It's an easy commitment, the most simplest decision he'll ever make in his lifetime, even if there's still a voice that nags him in the back of his mind telling him this is too much of a luxury to want, too selfish of an idea to have. It doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter and he'll figure it out,  _they'll_  figure it out -- together. "I'll come home with you."

"Oh?" Delico can hear the amusement in the other's voice, the way the word frays at the edge of excitement and it makes a fresh wave of warmth blossom in his chest. "Where's home? Hopefully not this shitty apartment."

"I don't know," Delico laughs, grabbing at Yang's hand to lace his fingers in with the other's. "Wherever you are... Wherever you are, Yang -- that's home."

 


End file.
